Anyone my age will know the double meaning of this post title. It couldn’t be helped. I apologize. I hope you are out getting dusty. I’ve stopped posting the statistics from my rides. There wasn’t any real issue or any real deep thinking involved. It just didn’t seem important. I’ve had spotty health these past few days, reminders of my shaky foundation, which is never fun. Having said that I’ve still been out at much as possible. Even when every ounce of my body and brain is saying “take a nap already,” I will force myself out for rides of less than ten miles. Add wind and elevation and something short can actually feel like something far more.
Spring is here but false fronts are common. A warm day followed by wind and cool temps as the seasons argue over what comes next. The world also wonders what’s next. Craziness and misinformation are now the norm. Questions with few answers. But this is where things get interesting. I’m currently sitting in my van, a fly rod and two casting rods stare me in the face. The wind rages outside. The smell of roasting pork shoulder comes from the neighbor. There is uncertainty about.
There is something about this dusty world that makes me feel entirely at home regardless of what happens. Stay here another year, in lockdown. Okay. Go forth into the world. Okay. Read the tea leaves. Is there safety in not knowing, not seeing? Can you be corrupted by the visual norm? I believe yes. Like a lost tribe. First contact can be the beginning and the end.